A Tale of Three Brothers (Completed)

Mended Tires

Sam received his first detention of the year during his second week of school for forgetting to bring his textbook to class. He stayed an hour after school, scraping gum off the underside of the desks in Mr. Brian's classroom.

When he finished, the sun was beginning to go down and it had gotten considerably colder. Elliot had taken the car for the night. He had a date with Karen. Trisha was the only other person at home with a license, and Sam decided he would rather walk the twenty minutes home than accept a ride from her.

He almost missed Martha sitting by the bike racks. For a moment, he considered ignoring her, but he didn't want to think about her being in the dark by herself. "Hey," he said. "What are you still doing here?"

When Martha looked up at him he could see that she'd been crying. "Go away, Sam. I'm really not in the mood."

"What's wrong?"

"I said, go away."

"Fine," Sam said. He'd taken only a few steps away from her before he changed his mind. "You know, I don't know what it is you want from me. Do you want me to say, I'm sorry? Because I am. I'm so fucking sorry I can't sleep at night. Everyday, I'm beating myself up about it. I'm sorry, Martha. I'm so fucking sorry. And if you want, I'll leave you alone and never speak to you again. But, I can't just see you every day and not worry about you. Can't we at the very least be civil?"

Martha didn't say anything, but Sam hadn't expected her to. He'd apologized, and he'd accepted that they were never going to be friends. For now, that would just have to be enough.

"Someone slashed my bike tires," Martha said. "I called my mom from the office, and she said she would be here. But she isn't. I don't think she's coming."

Sam helped Martha to her feet. "My house is close," he said. "I can patch up your bike and then I can see if Trisha's around to take you home. That okay?"

"Yeah, sure."

It felt like the longest walk of Sam's life. He didn't know what to say to Martha r now that they'd called a truce or even if he should say something.

"So, how has school been?" Martha asked.

"Fine," Sam said. He didn't tell her about his daily run-ins with Brock or about the fresh bruises he'd gotten just that morning.

"I heard Brock's been riding you pretty hard," Martha said.

Sam was caught off guard, as he'd believed nobody but he and Lara knew. "It's nothing I can't handle," he said.

Martha looked away from him. "That's what Dylan said."

Sam stopped walking. "He's been messing with Dylan?"

"It's not like with you," she said quickly. "He just says things, you know."

Sam relaxed a little, but he didn't like the idea of Brock being anywhere near Dylan. "I can't help that," Sam said.

"What is up with the people here?" Martha asked. "I wasn't here when your mom...did what she did, and Dylan never talks about it. But it was a long time ago. Why are they still so...angry?"

"I don't know," Sam said. "It's like they think because she died, she got away with something. So, instead of punishing her, they punish us."

"I'm sorry," Martha said.

Sam balled his hands into fists inside his pockets. "Why are you sorrry? It wasn't your fault."

"I know that," Martha said. "There's no need to get an attitude about it."